Redemption of Life and Love
by Gyffinclaw Forever
Summary: Hermione loves Harry, Harry loves Hermione, simple right? Wrong. Follow Hermione as she tries to become herself again after a dark Ginny takes over her and ruins the girl Hermione is known as. Will Harry survive throughout the tragedy or will his love remain unannounced? Hermione OOC and Ginny OOC. Bad at summaries, sorry. First story, as well.
1. The Explaination

**Okay, this is my first real story on Fanfiction and I really hope everyone likes it... But you never know, so any reviews are accepted and appreciated. I didn't know what to rate this so tell me if it gets too bad for T. I also know you might have just skipped this entirely and read the story. Harry will be in the next chapter as well as Ron. I know this is short and confusing, just bear with me, I have no beta so please tell be any grammatical errors.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I wouldn't need one... but, HP is owned by J.K. Rowling and not me. **

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Have you ever been jealous of someone? Of something someone has? Of what you don't? It's perfectly common and in fact, it's human nature. You cannot help being jealous of someone else, of the thing they have, or of what you don't. I know that I am jealous of a lot of things; shiny leather shoes, money, new clothes. Is it normal though, to be jealous of yourself? When someone takes yourself away from you, to make you live as an outcast? Is it right to be jealous of their fresh baked goods whilst you rummage around in dumpsters looking for scraps? What about when you are left in the cold sheets of winter while they snuggle into the warmest microfiber? How about when they use your body to gain the man of your dreams? The man that saved your life just as you saved his? A man that secretly loved you back? A man that was stolen by your new found enemy; Ginny Weasley?

I know I'm jealous. My life is great, but my life isn't my life, it's hers. She stole me from myself, leaving me a wholly different person. A person full of hate with a thirst for revenge, so unlike me; a person full of love with a thirst for knowledge. All I know is she stole me, and I plan on getting myself back, even if I go mad doing so.

It all started in fourth- year, right before the Tri-wizard Tournament. Ginny was researching an ancient and dark magic, one that separated someone from themselves, but kept them themselves. Harry, Ron, and I were studying advanced spells like the Patronus charm and how to become an Animagus. Apparently, even back then I was left to listen to my own ramblings and lessons, Harry and Ron focused more on girls and Quidditch. I had harbored a crush on Harry since first-year when he saved me from the troll. Of course, unlike Ginny, I prefer books over boys and gossip, so I kept my feelings to myself. Ginny was rather obvious in her obsession with Harry though, and what I did was disgusting. Ever since I was separated from myself, not only have my grades have gone down, but so has the respect some people have had for me. I am no better than a whore, and it disgusts me how I hang onto men, wear the skimpiest clothes, and cling onto anyone and everyone, even Draco. How could I stoop so low? Ginny, that's how.

My life is rather odd and confusing, considering I only have substance in my Animagus form. I live as a ghost anytime I'm human, or as close as I can be. My home is the Forbidden Forest, my friends, the werewolves and spiders. As a ghost, I wander the dense woods, hoping to figure out a way to get my revenge on myself without hurting myself. I can't harm myself, even if the things I do are vulgar and obtuse, even if I am not really myself. As and Animagus, I look endlessly for a plan, thinking it is hiding among the roots. The centaurs have yet to find me, but I venture closer and closer with every passing day. Some scouts can be seen standing stoically, galloping the perimeter or tracking my winding footsteps. My Animagus footsteps, of course. I don't leave footprints as a 'human'. I leave a scent for their hounds to follow, but nothing else. Heading towards Hogwarts would be ideal, but since the changes in both of my mental states of mind, I fear that we might react irrationally.

Harry has a Quidditch match soon, though. It will be the only one I've missed. I feel I should support Harry, but I will already be there, so should I go? Myself and I might react worse than Voldemort and Harry, spurring a battle that would leave me wand-less and conflicted.


	2. The Journey

I haven't found a good excuse to not updating, but I will say that I am slightly disheartened by the lack of reviews, but I thank the two people that have put my story in their alerts!

Disclaimer: (insert clever disclaimer here)

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The wind whistled through the forest, kicking up leaves and swaying the branches on the overgrown trees creating an eerie sort of music. Music the animals in the forest paid no heed to. The creatures that lurked in the dark shadows of the woods very presences weaved a tapestry of murderous evils and appalling deeds. The very real rumors brought little visitors, leaving no one to notice the mysterious ghost that traveled the forest in a desperate search for its life.

The ghost that wasn't really a ghost tended to wander closer to the castle every day, as it was, she was tied to it, her fondest memories and most beloved friends still residing in its halls. The ghost sighed, a whisper akin to the low rustle of the wind stirring the leaves. She looked around at the trees, a strand of her honey-blonde hair falling over her warm brown eyes. She had been debating whether or not to head towards her friends, to try and convince them of what happened or even go to the Quidditch game, but they could harm Ginny or her body in doing so.

But still, the longing was there. The want, no, the _need _to get back. It clawed at the girl's insides, raked the jagged teeth of truth over her thin skin. She kid herself when she thought otherwise, her own lies acting as transparent gauze, leaving her wounds in clear view. She pinched the bridge of her nose in an exasperated fashion, her eyes shut tightly and her brow furrowed.

Opening her eyes slightly, she peered around at the small wooded clearing she was in. How the ghost wished she could Apparate away, feel the tingle of magic as it coursed through her veins, out of her fingertips and into her wand. She knelt down on the grass, her Gryffindor uniform spreading out around her. Slowly, her figure morphed, elongating and solidifying into a massive serpentine creature.

Though the massive beast shivered slightly from the cold that emanated from deep within her, she displayed no more movements, content to just lie in the one patch of sun there was. Wind sung as it rushed through the forest of spines on her back, adding a new, anomalous tune to the forest's song. With a whistle of air and an anguished cry, the wood had been silenced.

~-(o_o)-~ Page Break

A shriek rang out from the dungeon of a Scottish castle.

"Hermione?" a raven-haired boy asked. "Bloody hell, are you okay?"

A honey-blonde girl looked up; her tear-filled, warm brown eyes looked up at him. She held her arm out, revealing an odd puncture hole that was dripping with blood. The classroom quieted, the only noise was the muffled cries of the girl and a dripping noise as her blood fell into the cauldron. With her eyes shut tightly, she looked up to her Potions partner and shook her head, her lips pursed tightly in an attempt to keep her cries hushed.

"Will you please tell me, Ms. Granger, why you feel the need to interrupt my class?" asked the professor, his beady eyes looking maliciously at her, feigning ignorance to her injury.

The sharp-tongued girl opened her mouth to retort, but was stopped by the cry of pain that escaped like a prisoner from Azkaban. Quickly she covered her mouth with her hand, biting down hard. This just made the Potions Master smirk viciously, his eyes laughing even though his mouth was content smirking at her.

"Professor, she needs to go to Madam Pomfrey's!" the boy exclaimed, his eyes still on the girl.

"Mr. Potter, since your potion is obviously not passing, you may take Ms. Granger to Madam Pomfrey's," Professor Snape said, sighing as he sent a spell towards their cauldron, freeing it from the now blood red, bubbling liquid.

\('-'\) Praise the sun!

The centaurs charged, their voices loud in their harsh battle cry. The dragon looked on in fear, her eyes darting between the onslaught of unfamiliar centaurs and the one that she knew; Bane. In a sick, twisted way, it was kind of ironic that he was leading the charge on her. The irony was soon lost on her when another arrow lodged itself in the crook of her arm. The dragon spread her wings, wincing as the muscles pulled and stretched awkwardly. With a second roar of pain, the girl took off into the warm and welcoming cloudless sky, ignoring the searing ache of arrows piercing the thin membrane of her wings.

The pale white skin of the Hungarian Horntail shivered at the warm embrace of the sun, eliciting a pleasured purr. Throwing a look at the clearing full of centaurs, she rose into the sky, casting a large shadow over the trees. Ignoring the steady trickle of blood from the crook of her arm and the red that stained her imperfect wings, she let loose a roar of happiness. The small dragon flew expertly, performing daring loops and spontaneous rolls, remaining entirely focused on her performance, not on the nearing castle or the approaching Quidditch field.

Her brown eyes opened leisurely, the orbs clouded by the small moment of serenity that she allowed herself. She slowly started to descend to the lush green grass of the field, ignoring the cage of stands that engulfed her, the looming shadows that confined her.

(o-o)/ Disco time!

"Madam Pomfrey!" Harry yelled, startling the grey haired healer. The nurse dropped the ingredients back onto the cart, looking back to see the scrawny boy and the blood-stained girl whose appearances were regular of late.

"Oh, take the cot over there; I'll be there in a minute with the Dittany," she said worriedly as she fumbled with the door of the medicine cabinet, eventually pulling out a small, stopper-ed bottle. She rushed over to the blood soaked cot while she pulled the stopper and


End file.
